


The Sun in the Morning

by blcckandblu



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcckandblu/pseuds/blcckandblu
Summary: stucky expect it's 1991 and they're in high school** i will be updating whenever i have time





	1. Chapter 1

It was a grey outside, the type of grey that weighs on a person and makes it hard to do anything beside lay in bed, contemplating ones problems. Sitting inside Brighton High School, Steve stared out the window into the endless grey, feeling as if it had seeped inside him and twisted him all about. He was off that day; his friends had murmured about it, his teachers noticed it and shot concerned glances his way. Steve had barely spoken a word all day, barely smiled at anyone. He'd done his work, head down, scribbling answers on his paper, completely disengaged. It was unlike him, to say the least. Steve was well-aware of his friends concern, and though it was endearing, he had kept to himself for most of the day. The trouble was, he didn't know why he was acting different. Maybe it was just the greyness, and tomorrow he would wake up, and the sun would be shining and all would return to normal, though he knew that was unlikely. The weather had never made him feel this torn up inside before. Staring out the window, he tried to pinpoint when it had started. Had he woken up feeling like this? No, he'd been relatively happy this morning. It must have started after he got to school. He tried to remember the events of the day-- if there was anything different, or out of the ordinary that had happened. Images of his day flashed through his mind. Almost everything was normal, the same mundane routine that he went through everyday. One moment did stick out to him though, it was small, probably meaningless, yet he couldn't stop thinking about it. It was first period, British Literature, a relatively boring class. Steve had been sitting in his usual seat, listening to his teacher drone on about Great Expectations and the Victorian Era, when he overheard arguing out in the hallway. The voices were fainting, but certainly there. Steve had turned to look out the small rectangular window in the door to the classroom, catching a brief glimpse of the two men arguing. One, he had never seen before, the other took a moment to place, but the name came to Steve eventually-- Bucky Barnes. They were in the same grade, never really talked much, but Steve had always had a quiet respect for Bucky, who was in many ways, his opposite. Reckless and without filter, Bucky walked around the school in cool, long strides, with an air of arrogance about him. The Bucky that Steve saw out in the hallway that day looked vastly different than the one that strode around the school with his head held high. He was pleading with other boy, clearly upset. Steve strained, trying to hear what they were saying, but their words were nothing more than distorted jumbles of sound. Steve watched as Bucky stepped closer to the other boy, gripping the fabric of his shirt in a loose fist. The other boy shook Bucky's hand off and shoved him aside, storming off down the hallway, and out of Steve's view. The interaction was puzzling to Steve, but was only made more confusing when Bucky glanced into the classroom and made eye contact with him. It was brief, their eyes met for only a few, fleeting seconds, but the look upon his face had stuck with Steve. He had looked hurt, heartbroken almost. Steve had tried to shake off what he had just witnessed, but clearly, the occurrence had stuck with him. It must have been that, but why was that glance, that tiny moment of connection between him and Bucky making him feel so shitty?

Leaving school that day, Steve avoided his friends. He didn't feeling like dealing with another round of their concerned "are you okay"s and forced small talk. He knew they had good intentions, but it was exhausting, acting normal so they wouldn't worry. He tugged on his jacket as he exited the school and into the greyness outside. Despite the gloomy weather, Brooklyn was still alive with activity. Students buzzed about outside the school, in lively conversation with friends, cars sat in traffic outside the school, honking occasionally. As Steve began the familiar trek through the crowded streets to the subway, which he had rode home from school every day for the past twelve years, his thoughts wandered back to Bucky. He wondered what they had been arguing about, how the two of them knew each other. Steve tried to remember if he had see Bucky with the boy he was arguing with before. He bit his lip, as he reached into the deepest parts of his memory, hoping for something-- anything. Besides for maybe seeing the two of them talking in the hallway, or walking to class together, nothing of note came to mind. Maybe it was just an argument between friends, Steve thought, though he doubted that. He'd never seen someone look so hurt over something their friend said. Bucky had looked like his whole world had just shattered before him. It had to be something more. Steve sighed, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind before he gave himself a headache. He often overthought things to the point where nothing made sense anymore.

Riding the subway home that day, Steve watched out the window as they thundered along the track, the Earth moving by in a blur outside the window. Leaning his head against the glass, he felt the vibrations of the train moving through him; he shut his eyes.

The rest of his day passed uneventfully. He did some homework, showered, ate dinner with his mother after she got home from work, and went to bed. It was easy, routine. Laying in bed that night, he felt like he could cry. His eyes burned and his throat felt like he had swallowed barbed wire. He shut his eyes tighter, willing sleep to come, a welcomed escape from the endless day.

The grey was gone the following morning, the sun taking its place, painting the streets golden and yellow. Steve, however, still felt the greyness, it's weight, pulling him down into a pit of uncertainty. Walking into school that day, he found himself searching the halls for Bucky. He didn't know what he would say to him, or if he would even say anything. He just wanted to see him, to make sure he was okay, or something like that. Steve weaved through the crowds of students in the halls, forcing a smile at his friends when he saw them. He didn't know how long he'd been looking when the bell finally rang, and Steve had yet to find Bucky. He sighed. Maybe he didn't come to school today, he thought. Steve turned around, his shoes squeaking on the floor as he headed towards his class— Brit Lit, again.

"Hey, Rogers!" a voice called out, stopping him in his tracks.

Steve searched for the source of the voice, eventually seeing Bucky, who stood, leaned against a locker, looking as cool as ever . 

"I think we need to have a talk, Rogers. Meet me on the front lawn, during lunch," Bucky said, waking closer to him. His words caused Steve to flinch, fearing Bucky was angry at him for what he had seen. Steve only nodded in response, darting his eyes away from Bucky, as he jogged the rest of the way to class.

Steve waited anxiously for lunch. Each minute of class seemed to pass slower than usual, until finally the lunch bell rang. Steve sprang from his seat and made his way to the front of the school. He stood on the schools front lawn, his hands jammed in his pockets. A few other students came outside and sprawled across the front lawn with their friends, eating and conversing. The return of the sun had made it a fairly warm day, especially for November. A few minutes passed, and Steve wondered if Bucky forgot about their meeting. He chewed on his lip nervously, until finally Bucky emerged from the school. He noticed Steve instantly, grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him to the alleyway beside the school. Steve was so nervous, he figured he must have been visibly shaking. Hoping to steady himself, he leaned back into the brick wall of the school, Bucky standing in front of him. He was taller by a few inches, and most definitely in better shape. Steve was rather scrawny, while Bucky was sturdy and clearly strong.

"I know you saw that shit yesterday. I don't know how much of it you heard or... or what, but don't tell anyone," Bucky said with a sense of urgency.

Steve was confused. He was certain Bucky had pulled him over here to scold him for eavesdropping. Never did he think Bucky would be so panicked. It was odd, seeing him like this, so clearly uncomfortable. "I didn't hear anything. I just saw you guys arguing, that's all." Steve saw relief wash over Bucky's face. He visibly relaxed. Steve swallowed, deciding if he should continue, "Are you... okay?"

Bucky let out a quiet laugh. He reached into the pocket of the loose denim jacket he wore and pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboro's and a black BIC lighter. He took a cigarette from the package, stuck it between his lips, and lit it. Finally, he responded. "Yeah, I'm perfect, Rogers."

Steve bit down on his bottom lip, unsure how to respond. Clearly, he was not fine, but was Steve really the one he'd want to talk about his feelings with? It was worth a shot, Steve thought. "What was the fight about?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"I know, I just thought-"

"I don't want to talk about it! For fucksake!" Bucky burst out, causing Steve to visibly flinch.

Steve nodded. "O-oh, uh okay. Sorry." They stood there in silence for a moment; Steve, with his back pressed up against the wall, too afraid to move, Bucky smoking his cigarette, before finally stubbing it out on the ground, with a small hiss. Steve had never been this close to him before. He took the moment to examine his features, which were defined, and well proportioned. He was pretty, Steve thought. "Well, I should probably go back inside. Class should be starting soon," Steve said uncertainly, as if asking for permission.

Bucky nodded and took a step back so Steve could leave. "Fuck it. Steve, you wanna hang out after school? I just need to talk to someone. I think I'll go insane, if I don't." He forced a small smile.

"Oh, uh, okay," Steve said, trying to mask his shock. "If you want, you can come to my place to uh... to talk?"

Bucky thought for a moment before responding. "Alright, I'll meet you out front again. Thanks, Rogers." He said, clearly relieved to finally have someone to vent to. He walked off, with his typical swagger, leaving Steve, completely confused as to what just happened, and incredibly nervous as to what Bucky would tell him that afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky rode the subway home with Steve that day. Neither boy said much. Rather, they sat shoulder to shoulder, Bucky looking out the window, Steve sneaking glances at him when he could, trying to figure him out, which was proving to be nearly impossible.  
“This is our stop,” Steve murmured to Bucky as the subway pulled into a station a ways down the line. They stood and exited together into the crowded subway station. Steve motioned for Bucky to follow him, leading him up the stairs and onto the street. A few minutes and a couple blocks later, they were at Steve’s apartment, which was rather small and drab, the furniture old and clunky, the walls a dull off-white. It was a bit messy, papers and plates strewn about. Steve figured he should clean in up, before his mother got home.  
“Nice place,” Bucky said. Steve couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, so he said nothing in return. The boys stood in silence for a moment. Steve shifted awkwardly, before finally breaking the silence.  
“Do you want to sit?” He asked. Bucky nodded, and flopped down on the nearby couch, sinking deep into it’s plush material. Steve sat beside him, leaving a cautious amount of space between them.  
“I don't really know what to say. I guess, I should tell you about the fight, right? That guy, Thomas, the one I was fighting with, we were... friends-“  
“Were?” Steve interrupted, knowing it was rude, but he couldn’t help himself. He was curious.  
Bucky bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable talking about it, but nevertheless, he continued. “Well, that's what the fight was about. He doesn't want to be.. friends, anymore.” The word friends seemed to catch in his throat, like it felt wrong coming out.  
"I'm sorry. You guys must have been close, for him to upset you the way he did." Steve wasn't sure how to comfort him. He didn't even know if he wanted to be comforted, or just needed someone to speak at. “Yeah. We were really close. Closer than friends, maybe."  
"Closer than friends?" Steve questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him.  
Bucky looked at him, smiled slighting and stood up. "You mind if I smoke in here?"   
“Sure,” Steve said, slightly annoyed at him changing the subject.  
He heard Bucky searching through his pockets, followed by the flick of a lighter. Steve sighed and stood, making his way to the kitchen, which was really just a couple cabinets and some appliances crowded in the corner of the living room. He figured he would get them a snack, try to be a good host, or whatever.  
“What’s your deal, Steve?” Bucky said, walking over to meet him.  
Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”  
“I don't know. I just don't really know anything about you. And you don't know anything about me either, yet you invite me over here, for no good reason. It's odd."  
Steve could feel his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. “I'm just trying to be nice.”  
Bucky blew off some smoke from his cigarette. “I know. It's still strange.” He smiled slightly. "Do you want a snack?" Steve asked, hoping Bucky couldn't see his blush. "No. I should be going anyway." "You don't have to." Bucky smiled and shook his head. "You're sweet, but I do. Give me a pen and paper, though. I'll give you my number, incase, you know, you wanna hang out again." Steve nodded and searched through the drawers for a pen and paper, eventually finding one buried underneath a collection of other forgotten objects. Steve handed Bucky the paper and pen. He took it and scrawled his number messily across it before walking over to the door. "I'll see you soon, Steve." "See you." Steve murmured in reply, watching Bucky walk away. "Oh, and Steve... I slept with him, Tom, I mean." Bucky said over his shoulder, with what looked to be a smirk. Before Steve could reply, Bucky walked away, disappearing down the hall, leaving Steve, alone with his shock.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve lay in bed that night, allowing his mind to wander, though all of his thoughts inevitably lead back to Bucky. Was he leading him on? Did Bucky seriously want him? The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. In all honesty, Steve knew he’d never thought about girls in the way most men do. Sure, he thought they were pretty, and nice to be around, but he’d never found himself seriously attracted to a girl in that way. As for men, well, he didn’t really know. The more he thought about, the more he began to realize that maybe, he been attracted to men his whole life, and had always been too ashamed to admit it. With everything going on with the AIDS crisis, and all the strife that had caused throughout the nation, he’d never really considered being gay an acceptable option. Yet, after his conversation with Bucky he had begun to rethink everything he thought he knew about himself.   
Minutes passed. Minutes turned into hours, and still no sleep came. Steve’s head throbbed, but he couldn’t stop goddamn thinking. He was ashamed to admit it, but he’d begun to fantasize about being fucked by Bucky— how good it would feel to have him inside him. He felt himself getting hard just thinking about it. God, why was he like this? Steve groaned. Bucky was turning him into someone he barely recognized, and he barely even knew each him.   
Finally, after hours of tossing and turning Steve fell asleep, sleeping late into the next morning. Thankfully, it was a Saturday and his mother was kind enough not to wake him. He eventually rolled out of bed, close to eleven am, all too aware of the lustful thoughts that had kept him awake the night prior. Sighing, he got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, where the bowl of chips from the night before still sat, untouched. His mother smiled at him from her seat on the couch as he entered. She sat where Bucky had been the day prior. He wondered if the seat smelled of him.   
“Morning, Steve.” His mother said softly, with a slight smile.  
“Morning, Mom. Hey, is it okay if a friend comes over later today?” Steve hadn’t yet called Bucky to see if he was available, rather he was just hoping he was.   
His mother nodded. “Sure. I have to go into work this afternoon anyways.” His mother, Sarah, worked more than most women. After the death of Steve’s father, she had picked up double shifts at the hospital, where she worked as a nurse. Steve felt it was his fault she had to work so much, as raising him was certainly not cheap. Though she insisted that she didn’t seem to mind working. It kept her busy.   
Steve nodded, thankful she’d be out of the house when Bucky came over. With the way things were going between them, he wasn’t sure he wanted his mother around when he was there. He poured himself a bowl of cereal-- corn flakes, his favorite, and sat down beside his mother. Quietly, they ate breakfast together, before his mother left for her shift. Steve hugged her goodbye, racing over to the phone as soon as she was out the door. He gripped the paper Bucky had written his number on the previous day in one hand, and feverishly typed the numbers into the phone with the other, pressing it to his ear when it started ringing. He bit his lip, praying he would answer. The phone rang a few times before someone picked up.  
“Hello?” A female voice answered.   
Steve clenched up nervously, not expecting to hear anyone but Bucky on the other end. “Uh, hi this is Steve, is Bucky there?” He asked, trying not to trip over his words.  
“James!! Someone’s on the phone for you!! Says he’s called Steve!!” Steve heard the girl call out. There was some rustling about on the other line, before the familiar voice of Bucky came through the receiver.   
“Hey, Rogers.” He said, voice smooth as always. Steve nearly melted at the sound.  
“H-hi. Do you want to hang out? We could get some food, and come back to my place. No one is home.” He bit his lip, praying Bucky would say yes.  
“Sure. Sounds good. I’ll meet you at your place in a few.” Before Steve could answer, Bucky had hung up the other end.  
Steve spent the next twenty minutes taking a rushed shower, and getting dressed. He never had really thought about his appearance much before, but the thought of Bucky made him nervous, like he had to dress up. Bucky always looked good, dressed in trendy outfits, that looked effortless, but attractive. Steve did his best to emulate Bucky’s style with a pair of faded Levi’s and a white t-shirt, which he pulled his usual puffer jacket on top of. He studied his reflection in the mirror. He looked so young; his eyes wide and round, his skin pale and smooth. He frowned, wondering why someone like Bucky would want anything to do with him. He could get anyone, with his looks. He was interrupted from his thoughts by a knock on the door. Steve rushed to open it, coming face to face with Bucky. He looked as cool as always, with a bright red jacket slung loosely on his body and a nearly burnt out cigarette between his lips.   
“Hey, Rogers.” He grinned. “So you wanna get some food or what? I’m starving.”  
A few moments later, they sat a nearby pizzeria, gorging themselves on greasy slices of pizza.   
“This place is pretty good, or maybe I’m just starving,” Bucky said, taking a bite into the crust of his slice.  
Steve smiled. “The girl who picked up the phone, is that your sister?”  
Bucky nodded. “Yeah, sorry about that. She’s always in my business. I mean, she means well. It’s always just been the two of us, so she’s always trying to take care of me, even though I don’t really need it anymore. It’s sweet, I guess.”   
Steve listened, wondering what happened to Bucky’s parents, but knowing the story would likely be a downer, he didn’t ask. “She called you, James?” Steve’s words elicited a groan out of Bucky.  
“James, yeah. That’s my name. No one really calls me it though, only her.”  
After both boys had finished eating, they began the walk back to Steve’s apartment. It was almost dark out and the temperature had began to drop. Steve jammed his hands in his pockets, in an attempt to keep them warm. Bucky followed suit, the boys moving swiftly through the streets, desperate to escape the cold. At last, they arrived back at Steve’s.   
“Thank fuck. It was freezing out there,” Bucky said, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.   
Steve nodded in agreement and motioned for Bucky to follow him. He led him to his room and closed the door softly behind them. Steve’s room was small, and sparsely decorated. A few pictures on the walls, a little bit of mess on the floor, but relatively identity-less. Bucky glanced around, taking it what little character there was before walking past Steve to take a seat on the bed. He leaned back on his elbows, watching Steve, who turned to look at him.   
“What?” Steve asked, feeling himself blush under Bucky’s watchful gaze. He was difficult to read, with his cool guy, don’t care attitude.   
Bucky shrugged. “Just looking at you.” His words caused Steve to blush harder. Bucky laughed. “You’re cute.” He laughed softly, and tapped the seat beside him. Slowly, Steve walked closer and sat beside him. Their shoulders brushed against each other’s.   
The room was lit only by a small lamp on Steve’s dresser, which cast a soft golden glow throughout the room. Bucky looked pretty in this light, Steve thought.   
“What are we doing here, Steve? Because this,” he motioned between them, “doesn’t feel like just friends.”  
Steve bit his lip. “I don’t know.” Bucky sighed, and slowly lifted a hand up to Steve’s face. Gently, he brushed his thumb across Steve’s cheek. Steve shivered. He’d never been touched this way by anyone, let alone another man. He enjoyed it though, feeling electrified by Bucky’s touch.   
“We shouldn’t do this, Steve. After the way things ended with Thomas, I don’t want to be hurt like that again. I don’t want to hurt you like that.” Bucky murmured, his voice soft and sweet.   
Steve swallowed, feeling very shy all the sudden. “Maybe you’re right.” Though as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt wrong. He wanted nothing more for Bucky to stop talking and kiss. Bucky seemed to notice, and he leaned closer, hovering his lips over Steve’s. Steve could feel his breath fanning over his face. His thumb still rested against Steve’s cheek. Steve couldn't resist it anymore. He pressed his lips to Bucky’s. It was a soft, gentle kiss. Bucky slide his hand from Steve’s cheek to his hair, running his hands through the boys blonde locks. Steve pulled away first, taking a breath in.   
Bucky smiled at him. “You’ve never kissed a boy before, huh?” He asked, slouching back a little, allowing his hand to fall back by his side. Steve shook his head no. “Did you like it?”  
“Yes.” Steve was completely sure of his answer. Kissing Bucky had felt like a moment of clarity. All the confusion and nervousness from the past few days had vanished, leaving Steve with only joy.   
“Good.” Bucky smiles. “I should go.”Steve could help but pout. Laughing, Bucky continued “I would love to do more than just kiss you, but I don’t want to rush into anything. Especially when this is all so new for you. And you know, I’m still healing from that whole thing was Thomas. Bucky seeened to sense Steve’s disappointment. He laughed a little. “Don’t worry, Rogers. You can have me next time.” He winked and pushed himself up from the bed.  
Reluctantly, Steve walked him to the door.   
“Bye, Steve,” Bucky said, leaningin one last time, pressing a brief goodbye kiss to his lips. He smiled before walking away.   
“Bye, Bucky,” Steve murmures, but he was already halfway down the hall, and didn’t hear


End file.
